


Handle Me

by helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Breathplay, Community: kink_bingo, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hand Kink, M/M, Telepathy, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik's hands make Charles weak with wanting.  But Erik's the one who finally acts on his desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handle Me

The first time Charles really had a chance to look at Erik's hands--huge and broad and long, with gently-tapered fingers, able to splay out for what seemed like miles and miles--his breath caught in his throat and he forced himself to look away, quickly, before Erik caught on.

But those hands are right there in front of Charles every day as they train. Erik's strong sweeping gestures and harsh closed fists can flip weights over, break chains, deflect thrown objects, pull things closer to him. When Erik stretches out his fingers, Charles feels like he's made of iron himself, drawn toward Erik inexorably. Erik could command him with nothing more than a gesture, too.

They work together every day; they play chess, for God's sake. Erik curls his fingers around idle pieces, presses pawns forward with a fingertip, snatches up captured knights and makes them disappear into those big, bold hands. It's enough to make Charles sweat, most nights, and then he goes to his bedroom alone.

It was too much to hope that Erik wouldn't notice, and when the moment comes Charles doesn't know how he ever could have prepared for it. Erik's toying with a paperclip, weaving it around his fingers, back and forth, back and forth, and suddenly the paperclip hangs in midair, above Erik's upturned palm.

"Charles?"

Charles wants to answer, should answer, shouldn't be hesitating, but Erik's fingers are still moving, adjusting the paperclip's balance from this to that, turning it over and over in the air.

"Charles," Erik says again, and the paperclip drops into his palm. "You're not breathing."

Charles looks up at Erik's face, and it's as though Erik is the mindreader, sure and certain of what Charles wants right now, what Charles most needs him to do. He stands up from the couch, comes around Charles's desk, and makes a small, inviting gesture-- _up you go, then_ , guiding Charles out of his seat with no use of magnetism at all. Charles walks to the side of the room with him, follows the motions of Erik's hands as Erik makes small directing motions that land Charles against the wall, his shoulders pressed to it, his head tilted up as he looks into Erik's eyes.

"This is going to change things," Erik says quietly, "but I can't bring myself to care. If you don't want this, though, now's the time to say."

Charles licks his lips, says nothing. He looks at Erik's hands, and Erik brings one up, runs his fingertips down Charles's face while Charles moans, openly wanting that touch.

When Erik's fingertips skim over Charles's throat, Charles starts shaking. Erik rubs a little harder, curves his hand to Charles's neck, fitting his palm against the side of Charles's neck and the web of his thumb just over the center of Charles's throat. His thumb skims up and down the other side of Charles's neck, held there in Erik's hand as Charles tries very hard to remember how to breathe.

"Say it now, if you don't want me to do this," Erik murmurs, and Charles closes his eyes, looks through Erik's at the picture he's presenting. The image of Charles is colored with Erik's want for him, with the way Erik's been fascinated by every glimpse he's gotten of Charles's throat, and Charles pushes forward minutely, putting his throat even more securely into Erik's hand. The lust that comes up for Erik is met by a surge of Charles's own, and Charles senses it when Erik turns his attention to his other hand, hovering above Charles's waistband, tugging gently at all the metal holding his pants together.

//Erik,// Charles thinks. Erik's answer is a pure ringing note in Charles's mind, warm and wanting, and when Erik flutters his fingers above Charles's belt to get it undone and pulled off him, Charles groans out loud. The zipper comes next, but the button Erik has to do by hand. All that done, though, Erik slips his hand into Charles's trousers, finding Charles's cock beneath his boxers and squeezing gently.

//Please...//

"Yes," Erik murmurs. He slides his hand back, sorts through the layers of fabric until he finds the slit in the front of Charles's boxers.

And then his hand, his beautiful, warm, rough hand, is on Charles's cock, jerking him slowly and dragging groan after groan out of him.

Charles slams his head back against the wall, presses his palms flat to it. //Erik, Erik, please, let me--// He brushes his awareness forward, tries to catch and linger on one of the places that gives Erik pleasure. Erik gasps, hand speeding on Charles's cock. //Let me, please, can I--//

"Yes," Erik grinds out, and then Charles is _in_ , and they're together, _together_ , Erik's hands and Charles's mind and the pleasure sweeps through them both, urgent, desperate for release this first time, this first time that Charles knows now will be the first of so many more, so many many more--

He's there, any moment now, and he doesn't want to go over alone. He grabs for Erik, tightens his hold on everything that pleases Erik, all at once, and Erik slams forward against Charles, groaning. His hand tightens so hard on Charles's throat that for a few thrilling moments Charles is trusting Erik with everything, including the air he breathes. It's intoxicating, and Erik's other hand is still moving just right, and--Charles comes, too, his cry choked off by the swell of flesh at the base of Erik's thumb, tight against his windpipe.

Erik lets him go after, leaning in against Charles and taking slow, shaking breaths. When he finally takes his hand off Charles's neck, Charles coughs and clears his throat.

Changing things. Erik was right; this will change things, might change everything.

Charles wraps his arms around Erik's waist and draws him forward so they can lean on each other. It's a change he can live with, as long as Erik's by his side.

 _-end-_


End file.
